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LIBRA OF CONGRESS. 

.:elf, S-.3.'S 



UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. 



OOKSEORATION 



A POEM. 



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t^^ 1874 > CO 



SIIELBYVILLE, KY. : 

SHELBY COURANT PRINT. 

1874. 



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Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 

J. Y. COSBY, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. i 



ROBERT ROWELL, 

Elcdrotype and Sfcreoti/pe Foundry, 

LOVISVILLEj KY. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

The press is teeming with publications, many of 
which are fascinating though often immoral and 
sometimes anti-christian. To remedy this evil the 
riches and the attractiveness of our current Chris- 
tian literature must be increased. This is the 
author's mite cast into this treasury. 



CONSECRATION 



:£'J^TIT FII?,ST. 



^^WILIGHT, nature's pensive queen, 
Throned upon her favored hour, 
In such drapery clothed the scene 

As no hand but hers has power ; 
MingUng hues Uke these, to grace 
With sorrow's loveUness the face 
Of joyous earth, and Heavenward fling 
A charm, that poet may not sing 

Nor hand of Umner trace. 
On the hills the golden light 

Like a dream of beauty lay — 
Shadow borrowed from the night — 

Splendor lingering from the day. 
Mellow clouds, gray, gold and blue, 
Crowned the near horizon's view ; — 
Curtains wrought by day to hold 
(Tho' ever changing, fold on fold) 
The portals of the sky and raise 
A beacon to the spirit's gaze. 
Which seems to tell the fond heart where 



4 CONSECRATION. 

The boundaries lie 'twixt Here and There. 

On the circling forest leaves, 
Rich in Autumn's varied dyes, 

No warm breath of summer breathes, 
No cold wind of winter sighs. 

Stillness, measured by the beat 
Of echo in her hid retreat. 
To the tread of viewless feet; 
Or by sear leafs whirring fall, 
Or by lone bird's evening call. 
Made its music everywhere ; — 
And a spell was on the air; — 

Not the morning's life-full rush 

Not the midnight's magic hush, 
But like hour of secret prayer, 

As, a moment's hallowed space, 
Earth and Heaven communing stood ; — 

Heaven bent to give its boon of grace 
And Earth uplift to take the offered good. 

II 
Such was the hour ; and of such scene a part 
Was one whose being circled in the heart: — 
A maiden, rounded to the hopeful time 
When Spring weds Summer in its early prime. 
To whom, nor outward form nor inward thought, 
Revealment of that being's might had brought. 
The soul was there, a heavenly toned lyre 
Unsmitten yet its music to inspire ; — 
The heart was virgin land, all richly stored 
With flowers and fruits, but never yet explored; — 



CONSECRATION. 

Or, deep, calm sea, o'er which no stormy wave 
Had rolled the distant, rock-bound shore to brave; 
Upon whose bosom, all uncharted yet, 
No human craft its wind-veered sail had set; — 
A deep of love, unfathomed yet, but where 
Were treasures great and pearls surpassing fair, 
While mirror'd on its tranquil wave did lie, 
By day and night, an image of the sky. 
Ill 
Over that heart-sea often went 
"^A. messenger — unconscious sent— 
A wordless wish, a formless dove, 
For olive from the Land of Love! 
— So beats the pulse in youthful day; 
So yearns the heart in life's decay; 
We would not, and we cannot stay — 
W^e would not, and we cannot still 
These outward motions of the will ; 
Around the soul must ever cling 
The beauty-charm, a deathless thing! 
— Yes, we must love! for there is placed 
In every living breast a waste — 
A desert, where the cheerful green 
Of blest Oasis is not seen: — 
A void that never can be filled 
Until the soul be waked and thrill'd 
By that electric flash that starts 
The callous Self-God from our hearts, 
And leaves us kneeling at some shrine 
Which, for the hour, we deem divine. 



6 CONSECRATION. 

Tis death to love not, and 'tis life 

To feel its bliss and share its strife ! 

— ^Yes! and we would be loved again ; 

For what were this, — to love in vain? — 

But let it pass: — our strain is wrought 

To harmony of happier thought. 

In consciousness of virtue's hour 

The soul finds strength to wield its power; — 

To toil, as seeking after truth, 

Is charm against the spell of ruth: — 

To shrine a beauty, is to share 

In part, the glory it doth wear: — 

So love hath joyance all its own 

Altho' its idol were a stone, — 

A carved Sphinx — if sign of thought 

Responsive on that stone be wrought. 

IV 

Ah! we would love, and would be loved again! 

But who or what shall lord the sweet domain? 

Perhaps that maiden, pondering thought like this, 

Was poising now the trembling scales of bliss! 

She look'd upon the landscape, but no trace 

Of outward thought was on her lovely face. 

And she was lovely — as the Lily's hue 

With Eose-bud match'd when every tint is new 

Of petals just expanding to the view. 

Hers was a brow whereon were scarce reveal'd 

Life's purple tints upon a snowy field 

Almost translucent; as the Parian ^-ase 

Half shows the treasure in its hidden place: — 



CONSECRATION. 

With large, soft eyes, that wore the mildest hue 
Of cloudless skies in May time's deepest blue; 
And arching lips, that curved like Cupid's bow 
Bent to its shaft in aim of happiest blow, 
Yet softly closed, as if the treasured bliss 
Of some sweet secret hover'd in their kiss ; 
With tint, like sunbeam glancing on a rose 
When dewy morn first wakens from repose ; 
And pure as light, when first the crescent moon 
Gives beauteous promise of her silver noon. 
A music face, where harmony was wrought 
Of passion-power and melody of thought; — 
A tone-full fiice, like youthful Milton's,^ where 
Were prophet thoughts and signs of feeling rare 
In constant play, yet hush'd in sad repose. 
As sunbeam oft a shade of shadow throws: — 
Suggestive, both in light and shade reveal'd, 
Of richest treasures in the soul conceal'd; 
As harp, well tuned, harmonic tone awakes 
To music sound that on the still air breaks, 
And for such tone gives back, in sweetest sigh, 
From every string a many voiced reply, 
In sign of music wealth its chords would show, 
If hand were there to bid its measures flow. 
— A graceful form, whose motion or repose 
Alike did beauty's life-full line disclose: — 
'Twas Hebe, smiling towards the golden dawn 
Ere from her lip the moon's cold light has gone; 
'Twas Dian, Virgin, while beneath her breast. 
An unknown gift, the golden Cestus prest; 



8 CONSECRATION. 

'Twas Aphrodite in her rosy shell 

Heav'd on a Sea- wave in its stormless swell; — 

With grace from each, where all could not combine,- 

So was she beautiful — a blossom'd vine 

Waved by the wind when seeking where to twine;- 

A crystal stream, that in its onward flow 

Was voicing music which it did not know. 

V 

She was of that scene a part 
Outwardly but not in heart; — 
Not that twilight was to her 
Of no night a harbinger ; 
Not that evening was irapress'd 
With no beauteous seal of rest: — 
For a vision of the night 

And a memory of the day — 
Fancies, mingled dark and bright 

As in dreaming — were at play, 
— Playing as m waking trance. 
When the soul's prophetic glance 
— Swifter than magnetic sign 
Throbbing thro' its circle line — 
To gather clearness, first is cast 
O'er the records of the past. 
Then in light of living sheen, 
And on canvass all unseen, 
Heads, in wierd mosaic set, 
Story of the life not yet, — 
Part of being, still to be. 
Ere the hand of destiny 



CONSECRATION. 9 

Marks for us the mournful bound 

Where earth's pause, the grave, is found: — 

And — Oh, is it vain to deem 

This were more than waking dream ? — 

And, in thrilling guise array'd 

Of purer light or deeper shade, 

GUmpses from beyond were caught 

And in that mosaic wrought; 

Life-scene, cast beyond the tomb,— 

Splendor flashing thro' its gloom. 

Rising now, then lost again 

As Pharos'^ light across the heaving main! 

VI 

We, sleeping, dream, and waking, cannot name 

The phantom shape that to our dreaming came ! 

Be it a token, thus divinely lent. 

Of good a pledge, of ill a warning sent; 

Or exhalation, rising from earth's soil 

Mid heat and cold, along our path of toil; — 

It dwells apart, a shadow without light — 

A sadness now, and then a pure delight, — 

A deed unwrought, — a song without a tone — 

A scene in life that life has never known : — 

We take no thought, whate'er its promise seem. 

But pass along, and say, 'tis but a dream! 

— And what are these throng'd visions of the soul 

That fill our waking thoughts beyond control; 

These bless'd ideals of a beauteous place 

Where earthly forms are shaped in heavenly grace; 

Where human hearts may beat but never break, 



10 CONSECRATION. 

And every pulse but that of sorrow take: — 
Where golden hours have hue of rosy dawn, 
Forever coming, and yet never gone : — 
Where deathless love, made passionless by power 
Becomes, at last, the soul's consummate dower: — 
This hope Immortal, wreath'd around the heart 
With life's first pulse, and of our being part ; 
Which builds its City glorious in the skies, 
Beyond the sphere where Death's dominion lies; 
Which, reverent, hears the word of Christly love, 
Of mansions in the Father-house above; 
And, rapturing, looks beyond the starry dome 
And hails the soul's grand shrine. Eternal Home?- 
Is this a . dream ? 

VII 

Came there answer in the sigh 

By that maiden softly breathed; 
Told the tear-drop in her eye 
She was of such hope bereaved — 
She was by such .dream deceived ? 
See! no herald of despair 
Waits in pale attendance there: 
Grief's cold lines, with waveless trace, 
Are not frozen on her fiice! 
There are signs of sun-relief 
From the shadow of a grief! 
For upon her lii)s, the while, 
Linger wreathings of a smile, — 
Lovely token of sweet thought 
On heart-loom of joy just wrought! 



CONSECRATION. 11 

Of such smile 'twere hard to say 
What the. magic of its play. 
'Twas like a distant melody 

Over rippling waters heard ; 
'Twas sweeter than the song could be 

Of Chillon's strange, bright bird ; -^ 
Like first concious love-thought, bless'd, 
Cherish'd, hush'd, and then confess'd: — 
A wave of silver light upon 
A crimson cloud at set of sun : — 
An angel's touch — a gleam of Heav'n 
To none but sainted spirits given. 

VIII 

A rose-bud, which her hands had clasp'd, 
And with unwonted fervor grasp'd 
And press'd unheeded there, now fell. 

And at her feet a moment lay 
Wilted and bruised, as if to tell 

How soon earth's i^romise fades away. 
She raised the bud, and o'er her face 
A sunny shadow stole apace, — 
Such soft regret as comes to prove 
The fondness of new 'waken'd love. 
When some slight token brings to view 
Large memory of the tried and true: — 
Of heart that shrined the sacred fire 
Beneath the ashes of desire 
And then was blamed because there cajue 
No flashings of consuming flame; 
Which ftiil'd not, tbo' it knew a scorn 



12 CONSECRATIOX. 

Within the heart it loved was born: — 
Its promise-love by fear turn'd out — 
Its deed-devotion held in doubt: — 
But known at last, at last believed 
And to love's Holy place received : — 
Such shade of love was passing now, 
O'er smiling lip and pearly brow, 
As, taking that bruised bud, to her 
A symbol more than jewels dear, 
She hid it in the simple vest 
That chastel}^ folded o'er her breast. 

IX 

A music chord in prelude, such 

As winds oft wake, with gentle touch 

In Ocean shell, on forest pine. 

Thro' winding cave and creex)ing vine; — 

Sad as the sigh of memor}", when 

The loved and lost come back again, 

In living form, to her alone; 

Sweet as the voice of hope when all 
The hills and vales to life-land known, 

Make music to her gladsome call : — 
Such prelude stole upon the air, 
Of music softly waken'd there. 
Lending the deep'ning twilight more 
The charm of silence than before. 
And lovelier seem'd, when at its close 
This voice of song, in hush'd accordance rose: 



CONSECRATION. 18 

X 

SONG 

1 
Loved Rose of Sharon ,4 
Flower of the cross; 
Sacred Nepenthe 

For Eden's sad loss, 
Brightness of beauty — Joy of the Vine — 
Loved Rose of Sharon, would thou wert mine 
2 

Rose of that Garden, 

Whose midnight dew, 
Wept with the blood drops 
That crinison'd thy hue; 
Emblem of sorrow — Love's purest shrine ! 
0! Rose of Sharon, would thou wert mine! 

3 
Rose of that morning 

Whose early light 
Chased from thy beauty 

The shade of Death night; — 
Of life Immortal, both Promise and Sign ; 
Loved Rose of Sharon, would thou wert mine! 

4 
Flower of devotion. 
Symbol of Grace, 
Blooming forever. 

In mercy's sweet place ! 
Altar of Incense, with odor Divine; 
Loved Rose of Sharoi\, would thou wert mine! 



14 CONSECRATION. 

XI 

The song was ended, yet in soft retreat 
A moment linger'd, tremulously sweet, 
As step of angels, stealing from the place 
Where they have done a deed of Heavenly grace. 
" Silence was pleased," and mid the holy spell. 
Soul of its charm that maiden seem'd to dwell, 
And fitter seem'd because nor look nor air 
Bespoke a thought of conscious presence there; — 
And then she knelt. 

XII 

How beautiful is prayer! 
How beautiful in very fact, 
How graceful, even in outward act ' 

Tho' soul were wanting there ! 
Token of a spirit true, 
Yielding lowly homage due; 
Earth's salute made to the skies 
With smitten breast and downcast eyes: 
Sorrow seeking joy's retreat; — 
Mary at Eabboni's feet: — 
Gratitude, with clasped hands, 
Bow'd where Mercy's presence stands! 
— And, Oh I if unto Heaven arise 
Thought responsive to such guise. 
Voiced in words or breathed in sighs; 
Or passion, such as has no tone 
Of Avord or sigh, to make it known; 
Signless power, that cannot take 
Outward form, unless it break, u 



CONSECRATION. 15 

Flashing on the face of night, 

O'er cloud and star resplendent light. — 

Or hurl'd in one resistless blow, 

To scathe a glory here below, 

And blast some mortal sight: — 

When the spirit thus, in dust 

Bows itself in awful trust; — 

Agonized in its own will. 

But to Heaven submissive still, 

Echo's like Gethsemene, 

'Oh my Father,— if it be;—" 

Yet, when faith's great trust is won, 

"Not my will, but thine be done ; " 

This is beautiful to God, 

Loveliest sight on earthly sod! 

XIII 

She knelt in prayer, but not a word was spoke. 
Nor whisper'd sigh the sacred silence broke. 
Raptured to peace, and voiceless in its joy. 
The soul gave worship without earth's alloy. 
And why should pride of mortal presence here 
In vestured pomp of Eitual form appear; 
Or who restrict the boon of Heavenly grace, 
To seasons, rites or earth-appointed place ? 
From Him, who frail Samaria's daughter 5 taught 
At Jacob's well, came word of vaster thought: — 
Nor time, nor place, nor ceremonial rod. 
Is usher to the dwelling place of God; 
Nor pyx, nor priest, nor candle-lighted shrine 
C£m hide the Christ, or bound the love Divine. 



16 CONSECRATION. 

O'er Sychar's plain, from Salem's rocky mount, 
There equal streams the life imparting fount; 
The verdant Tropic and the Artie snow 
May hear alike its sweet unwinter'd flow; 
Wasteless thro' deserts doth its pathway lie, 
Forever fresh'ning 'neath Love's nightless sky! 
When He, who, potent in his dying wail, 
Proclaim'd a God and rent the Temple's vail, 
Kose to unseal the mystery of the tomb 
And pour'd His splendor thro' the awful gloom, 
Then came the boundless Avatar of grace ; 
The Sun of Righteousness reveal'd his face 
With glory's earnest in his mighty ray 
And baptized earth to mercy's new-born day. 
The prophet Harp which, smitten oft in vain, 
Had charm'd the night-hours with its hallow'd strain, 
After long silence, thrill'd its ancient tone 
To hail a Light-song lovelier than its own. 
By types and shadows no more dimly cast 
The day of freedom broadly dawn'd at last; — 
Freedom to worship, freedom to believe. 
Freely to ask and freely to receive — 
Not in reversion — not by second right 
From mortal hand in delegated might — 
The treasured bliss our sorrowing souls demand, 
But, rain'd like Manna upon Israel's band — 
A gift direct from Heaven's propitiate hand ! 
XIV 

So speaks the voice from Calvary, and so 
It wafts its message to the heart (if woe, 



CONSECRATION. 17 

And so this suppliant, mid that rapture, heard 
The "still, small voice" of the Almighty Word. 
—She pray'd and lo! responsive to that prayer, 
The place was Baptized!— It was Bethel there! 
For there, not vision'd, but in spirit view, 
The Beauty gate Celestial open flew, 
And One came forth, whose glorious hand was spread 
In Consecration gift upon her head :— 
The Great High Priest, much loving, to be loved, 
Touch'd the thrill'd heart, and all the spirit moved. 
Then bade Love's stream, Life's sacred fountain, roll 
And Rose of Sharon blossom on the soul! 




CONSECRATION 



i»-A.R,x SEConsriD. 



NIGHT of stars by great Orion led — 
A sunny day lamenting Dai)hne dead, — 
How dark, how bright the mysteries that sleep 
In human hearts whether we smile or weep! 
Deep as the Ocean where its tideless wave 
Hides treasure in inviolable grave; — 
Clear as the stream whose crystal waters show 
Thro' light-filled depths the forms of life below; 
Mild as on flowers the healing zephyr's breath ; 
Wild as the storm, when winds are names of death; 
Now driven like chaff before th' unrisen gale 
Ere yet the tempter has told half his tale ; 
Then, strong in trust, Prometlieus on his rock, 
Joys to endure the doom of mortal shock; — 
Now faint in pulse, then mighty in its hope 
Throbbing to deeds beyond earth's narrow scope; 
glorious in love, yet in the hour of hate 
)ts thought beseems a prince of Hell's estate; 
Glorious in faith, yet in perpetual fear, 
Mourning the lost, dreading the loved thing near, 



CONSECRATION. 19 

Lest some rude hand should snatch it from its place, 
Or write a name of mockery on its face : — 
Wearing all forms, thro' every passion's range, 
A Proteus God, — but prophet in each change ;6 
And ever true! — True when it prophesies 
The wreck of our earth-laden argosies, 
And truer still when the inspiring flame 
Shows in its light the Great Revealer's Name: — 
Its aim is Heaven — as Heaven its motive pure 
When 'Bethlehem's Star becomes its Cynosure! 
II 
Oft in lines of herald glory 
Read we life's emblazon'd story. — 
Thrilling tale of daring deed 
Done in Battle's dreadful need, 
Man-blood buying highest meed. 
The Idol — he who leads the van. 
The Ceasar or the Genghis Khan ; — 
So the deed of war is done; 
So the crown of blood is won! 

Love takes up the Lyre and tells 

How its strain the bosom swells; — 
The thrilling might of passion's power 
And glory of its triumph hour ; 
Which charms us still altho' the tale 
Hath oftenest cadence of a wail, — 
A wail by Arethusa font 
Or Hero o'er the Hellespont. 

Ill 
I cavil not — would not efface 



20 CONSECRATION. 

k line historic from its place, 
Graven in rock or traced in sand 
If it be work of truthful hand. 
In the Senate, on the Throne, 
In the marts to Commerce known- 
He who labors and achieves, 
Let the work be called his own 
And what honor it receives. 

IV 

I would deck Peabody's shrine. 
If so much wealth of praise were mine, 
With flowers Immortelle, in design 
Of Christly love and classic art 
Enwreath'd to touch a Nation's heart 
And warm it, till its pulse shall beat 
The march of time in last retreat. 

V 
Yes; catalogue the stars that rise 
And shine and set in Earth- ward skies I 
Glorify the workers dead 
In the lustre they have shed, 
And in titles, earthly famed, 
Let them ever be proclaimed. 
When the race of life is run 
Whosoever hath striven and won 

Glory meed of earthly prize 
Let him wear it till the sun 

Of such earthly glory dies: 
For who would spoil the wreath of fame 
That circles 'round a victor's name ! 



CONSECRATION. 21 

— But remember, in God's sight 

Other names are hid in hght; 

There be heroes nobler far 

Than these "demi-gods of war," 

Richer than the Commerce King, 

Tho' they have no gold to bring 

Nor jewels rare nor lucent gems 

To buy them earthly diadems: — 

Viewless toilers in the shade 

By social heights o'erhanging made; 

Silent workers in the vale. 

Heedless of ambition's tale, 

Doing duty for no prize 

Save the love-call from the skies: — 

Living martyrs for the Eight 

Beneath the torturing hand of Might: — 

Witness for truth — who die 

But cannot worship Power's lie: — 

To whom, not all of pleasures charms, 

Nor glittering pomp of conquering arms, 

Nor that new Serpent voice, whose guile 

Has snared the nations in his wile. 

Which says the voice of God is still 

Commanding in the people's will : — 

Names, that earth has not announced 

Nor trumpet-call of fame pronounced ; 
Faith's grand heirs-apparent, now 
(^all'd beneath the cross to bow, 
But in death to lay it down ; — 
Seal'd expectants of a crown ; 



22 CONSECRATION, 

Saints whom Christ will canonize 
In Love's great day of life's surprise ! 

VI 

Hid in the splendor of unvision'd light 

That day of Eevealing is tarrying yet; 
But its promise of glory awakens the night, 

Its star on the brow of the morning is set. 
The stir of the Nations, as waking from sleep, 

Is portent of storm, like the moan of the sea, 
Giving sign of unrest from its solitudes deep. 
Ere the wind wake its T^^aves to fierce revelry. 
The storm of the Nations will gather at length. 

Till Destin}' point to the moment of wrath; 
And then, in the might of its terrible strength, 

Sweep down, with the vengeance of God on its path. 
Then soon, o'er the scene of its desolate waste, 
The noon of the Christ-day will brighten in haste, 
The harp of the Seer shall awaken again, 
Untouch'd by a hand, its enrapturing strain ; — 
Not song of the Future, that mourns its delay, 
While chanting at midnight the coming of day ; 
Not shadow'd in symbol, nor vision'd in dream 
On Palestine mount or by Babylon stream ; 
But toned like the shout that o'er Bethlehem rung, 
When Angels the Hymn of Nativity sung; 
And tcngued with the flame of the Pentecost fire. 
The Spirit of God shall awaken that lyre : — 
And sweeter than Hymning of Angels shall be 
Its anthem of triumph, o'er land and o'er sea, — 
Redemption is Finish'd — Hell's banner is furl'd. 



CONSECRA Tl ON. 23 

Messiah is come to the throne of the World! 

VII 
This were of my song no part 
If I wrought mere work of art; 
But amid my thoughts it came 
Like the bursting of a flame 
Long conceal'd but nourish 'd still 

By the fuel of its choice 
Till I had no other will 

But to give it light, in voice. 
For thro' swift and silent years, 
Wreath'd in smiles or dini'd with tears, 
Oft the siren word of Hoj)e 
— Trusted still when e're she spoke — 
To my trust its promise broke ; 
Left me still less strength to cope 
While upon the short'ning way 
Ever deep'ning shadows lay. 
Baffled oft, but lingering still, 
Faith felt shudder of a chill- 
Presage of a death as deep, 
As the soul's eternal sleep. 
But a ghnt is on the shade. 
And a light is half display'd, 
And the numbness of my pain 
Throbs with pulse of life again 
For the hope that wooes me now 
Hath a truth-seal on her brow — 
Diamond clearly cut and pure 
As I have not seen before; 



24 CONSECRATION. 

And her hand with silver chain 
Links me to vcij song again. 

VIII 

Nine times circled to the Sun, 
Earth her mystic course had run ; 
Nine sweet flowering Springs had blown 
And to Summer ripeness grown, 
Since I saw that maiden fair 
Bowed in Consecration praj^er. 

IX 

The scene is changed. It is a land 
Not rudely touch'd by Winter's hand 
Where leaf and blossom never sere 
Are summer'd thro' the changing year; 
Where Eoses blow and Jasmines twine 
Around the Live-Oak, 'neath the Pine, 
And hues of tropic dye are seen 
Blended with Artie evergreen ; — 
Where sighing Cypress breathes perfume 
Caught from the grand Magnolia bloom ; 
Where nature yields her amplest store, 
From mountain slope to Ocean shore : — 
— A land that warms beneath the ray 
Of fervent Sun-love thro' the day, 
And freshens into new delight . 
Beneath its glorious stars by night ; 
— A land whose children, true and brave, 
Hold life in trust for honor's grave. 
And call the gold that bays a name 
But gilds a crime, the dust of shame! 



CONSECRATION. 25 

— And here a Home, where might be traced, 

Full many a feign of cultured taste ; 

Where affluent hand and skillful art. 

With nature wrought in every part. 

Creating beauty which should be 

A forirn of living harmony! 

And yet the magic of the place, 

Was not its form of outward grace; 

The charm that made it half divine 

Was wrought beside its inner shrine, 

Where love's sweet fountains 'waken iirst 

And from their hidden heart-springs burst; 

Where -first the harp of life is strung 

And measure of its psalm first sung ; — 

Where first from artless lips is heard 

That Talisman of Love, in word, — 

Where, wrapp'd in unconsuming flame, 

Is first reveal'd earth's sacred name, 

Mother ! 

X 

The welcome was most sweet, 
And sweet the rest in such retreat. 
For memories of other days 
Had made my name a word of praise 
In that Home circle : — and to me 
The audience was both fond and free. 
On softest wings the hours flew by, 
Not even hinder'd by the sigh 
Which now and then her bosom heaved. 
When some remember'd name was breathed 



26 CONSECRATION, 

Of one she knew and loved before — 
Now name on earth and nothing more : — 
In various, happy talk the time 
Was cheer'd till near the midnight chime. 
And then we said, good-night! 

XI 

Such hour 
For me hath charm of wondrous power ; 
And so I wander'd forth to try 
Its spell beneath this Southern sky. 
— The moon was full — the balmy night 
Was shadow'd in its pearly light: — 
From Aspen leaf and half waked flower, 
— Half wakened from its wonted sleep 
Such charmed watch as this to keep — 
From Pansies low, and Virgin Bower 
High climbing on its lattice frame, 
By moonlight pencil'd, shadows came, 
Now traced on ground of silver'd green 
And now on gravel'd walks between. 
Where, in such soften'd light, they lay 
Like dreams of shadows cast by day. 
Meanwhile from top of loftiest tree 
The Mocking Bird made melody 
Of all day-warblings waked again, 
And pour'd in one unbroken strain. 
Harmonious still though changing oft, 
Mellifluous ever, loud or soft: — 
The lonely Whip-Poor- Will here stole 
Sweet cadence from the Oriole, 



CONSECRATION. 27 

The Hawk's wild scream; the Dove's low call, 

Red Breast's lament at first snow fall, 

The Quail's far whistle, and the ring 

Of Bine Bird welcome to the Spring, 

The Swallow's twitter. Bittern's moan, 

Sad Thrush and Jay's defiant tone, 

And Lark's gay carol sky-ward sent — 

All in the matchless lay were blent: — 

— But vain attempt, in words, to tell 

How thousand songs in one may dwell! — 

It seem'd as tho' the moon had wooed 

The Songster to his happiest mood, 

And all bird-music he must wake. 

And sing with sweeter art each song 

Than bird to whom it did belong. 

Or else his poet-heart would break! 

My God! 'Tis speechless joy to hear, 

In notes so varied, thrilling, clear. 

Thy love, in tuneful numbers praised, 

Sweet as in vocal anthem rais'd! 

And oh! most beautiful, to see 

The shadow of thy majesty 

Vesture the day in glorious light 

Or gem the starry brow of night! 

It was a worship and a bliss 

To be a part of scene like this. 

The heart grew passionless and still, 

And yet, to love's ecstatic thrill 

Was tremblingly alive : — desire 

Sprang to the shining vault and higher, 



28 CONSECRATION. 

A swift-paced pilgrim, wand'ring far 
Beyond the flash of utmost star 
In quest of Him whose midnight flings 
Such glory over earthly things ; 
Then pass from mortal presence here 
Into the splendour of His sphere ! 

XII 

Centre of such scene was here, 
In the home reposing near, 
And she of Consecration prayer 
Was the Mother, ruUng there! 
In her eye was deeper shade, 
As by fruiting Autumn made 
When its mellow ray is blent 
With a beam from Summer lent; 
And the softer smile that play'd 
'Round her beauteous lips had caught 
Richer tone from riper thought, — 
Mother, lovelier than the maid. 
Still a calm, fair forehead, where 
Was no wrinkled line of care, 
But a tenderness of thought, 
With the years' experience fraught ; 
Signal of affection's lore 
Which the learn 'd heart holds in store, 
By no thief of time despoil'd. 
By no rust of sorrow soil'd, 
Wider thought and richer heart, 
Maiden wise in Mother art. 



CONSECBATOIN. 29 

XI ri 
She was wooed and had been won — 
— Knighther wooing ne'er was done — 
Wooed by one whose form and ftice 
Lineage show'd of noble race : — 
Noble — not by King decree, 
Framing shield of Heraldry ; 
Not by sign of courtly seal, 
Power's award to minion zeal ; — 
But, with noblest form combined 
Lofty thought and heart refined ; 
Motive pure and purpose high, 
As the vault of honour's sky ; 
Brave, above all thought of fear. 
In danger hour or menace near; 
Yet, in friendship's circle, mild. 
Simple manner'd as a child ; — 
In defence of weakness, strong, 
Proud in presence of a wrong, 
Ne'er to guilty passion weak, 
Unto God profoundly meek! — 
Wooed and won — a fitting prize 
Where such noble venture lies :— 
Won to be his youthful Bride, 
And to be his manhood's pride, — ■ 
From the altar where were spoke, 
Words of covenant never broke. 
Thence to shine the purest gem. 
In his heart's love-diadem. 
Came she, bidding hers farewell, 



30 CONSECRATION. 

To weave for him <a House-hold Spell. 

XIV 

Twice in love's most hallow 'd vow 

Doubly consecrated now ; — 

Golden cord, with silver twine. 

Wraps that loving heart of thine, 

Youthful Mother, and thy hand 

Wears a signet — bears a wand 

Mightier than of Fairy land : — 

Signet that unlocks the gate 

Where the heavenly pilgrims wait; 

Wand that waves, and heart-built bowers 

Rise an.id immortal flowers ; — 

At whose touch, the tears that start. 

Backward flow upon the heart 

And are changed, from sorrow's dew, 

Into pearls of richest hue. 

— Thine it is to write that j^jage 

Which, by memory-loving age, 

Shall be fairest, fondest read. 

Living when all else is dead : — 

Thine to seal within the breast 

Life's eternal Palimpsest! 7 — 

After writing will be there. 

Earthly blot or heavenly fair ; — 

Rain of joy and storm of woe. 

O'er that heart may often flow, 

And the floods seem to efilice 

That first record from its place, 



CONSECRATION. 81 

Yet that first shall brightest prove 
In the history of its love. 

XV 

Ah! "Home, Sweet Home!" thy never weary lay 

Enchants us ever thro' our youthful day, 

And age, with faltering lips, would still prolong 

The tuneful numbers of thy happy song ! 

And when the heart has grown too sear to feel 

The Winter chill along the pulses steal, 

And dead to Summer of the passing j^ears, 

— The rare, scant Summer that to age appears; — 

It thrills to hear, ^ and strives to wake again 

The life-warm numbers of thy passion'd strain. 

— And thine, mother, consecrated queen, 

And beauteous light of every home-bright scene 

Pictured in hearts, whose silbstance wrought of thine, 

Is of immortal souls the wondrous shrine — 

— Souls born on earth, but native to the skies — 

Thy name is one whose glory never dies ; — 

For when the tongue that learn'd its speech of thee, 

Can speak no more its earthly melody ; 

In that fair realm where hfe delights to range 

Beyond all bound of death, and fear of change, 

— Free as the light far-ilashing from a star, 

Pure as the pure where all celestial are, — 

There shall awake, in love's iiielodious tone, 

That angel harp may crave to make its own 

Thy hallow'd name, to linger 'mid those spheres 

Echoed in beauty without change of years! 



32 CONSECRATION, _ 

XVI 

My Mother! If it be 1113^ lot to stand 

Among the singers of the Beauty Land, 

Oh, in the rapture of our greeting hour 

How shall ni}^ soul evoke its sacred power 

To breathe thy name 'mid that blest song which 

thrills 
And never dies upon the Glory Hills ! 



CONSECRATION 



:e>j^'rt thii^id. 



i«n? 



^OW fleet is Time! and swifter goes 
From moment of the opening rose 
Of mortal life until its close ! 
To him whose race is nearly run 
The rising and the setting Sun 
8eem almost blended into one, 
While youth surveys full many a scene 
And counts the lingering hours between. 
But time moves on — nor weary limb 
Nor withered heart belong to him, 
Nor hoary head, nor wrinkled brow ; 
His locks are just as golden now 
As in his earliest prime, when he 
Came forth from old Eternity 
A glorious Youth,9 adorned with grace 
And matchless strength for Nature's race 

II 
And as he runs — forgive the sigh 
That answers to the tear-dimm'd eye. 
While sudden change, in darken'd light, 



34 CONSECRATION. 

Is making vision to my sight 

Of sadder scenes, than to my thought 

In dream of utmost fear, were brought ! 

I dare not murmur or repine, — 

0, scepter'd Lord, the worlds are Thine 

And wisdom of Eternity! 

It is not Chance that comes to me 

But purpose of Thy love, that flows 

From age to age amid our woes 

As in our joys, and runs to this 

Sole Sea of all embracing bliss! 

— But, swift as Time, with equal range, 

Follows the athlete demon. Change, 

Sowing the heart-soil, plowed by fears. 

With seed of waste and salt of tears. — 

This was the power, and this alone, 

Swept o'er my soul and waked its moan ;—' 

I sighed for beauty-visions fled, 

And wept above heart-idols, dead; 

I loved them well, — they were to me 

A passion's silent melody, — 

Song without words — and mine alone, 

Save when I chose to give it tone 

In whispered accents, where I knew 

The echo would be fond and true! 

Farewell, Farewell! The burial place, 

is very cold in its embrace. 

And darksome shrine for so much grace. 

I clasped and prayed, — but could not save; 

There is no ransom from the grave ; 



CONSECRATION. 35 

For this is Earth — alas I and this 
Its better name — Necropohs! 

Ill 
Alas! Alas! The years that swept along 
Hasted as much to gather many a wrong, 
And ere the Suns had mellowed into age 
The sanctions written on its virgin page, 
A Nation shamed the Covenant of its youth 
And broke the seal of its Confederate truth ! 
Forgot its vows, or if remembered still, 
Paid tithe in form with treachery of Avill, 
And framed oppression under Freedom's cloak, 
Till scorn, at last, the bond of patience broke, 
And Discord, wielding Passion's fearful spell, 
Gathered the people at the gates of hell! 
The day was darken'd as the sun arose 
With fearful light — more fearful at its close — 
And in such shadow o'er the pallid land 
The Battle Monarch waved his bloody hand, 
And, answering to the dreadful summons, came 
War's leaden crash, and all-consuming flame! 
Then there was Carnival that should delight, 
All fiends that haunt the dismal shades of night; — 
Death rode full fast and free ! with uncheck'd rein 
The Pale Horse dash'd on over hill and plain, 
A dreadful van, — follow'd in equal haste 
By horrid Hell along the path of waste ! 
— Cities were sack'd, and fields of harvest grain 
Wasted around the living and the slain ; 
While Hate gave license to the heart of Lust 



36 CONSECRATION 

That trampled pleading Innocence in dnst.— 
Pleading to share, instead of shame, the grave 
Whose scanty earth conceal'd their gallant brave! 
The fields were ravaged, and the spoiler's feet 
Pursued the dying to their last retreat 
In Homes made Hospitals, altho' their dower 
Was besom-swept, before the arm of power, 
Of all, save that which death alone can quell, 
And song of mine is impotent to tell, 
The love of woman — constant as a star, 
And warm as Sun that shines not from afar; — 
Heaven's Angel gift, when Heaven itself departs 
And yields no solace to earth's broken hearts! 

IV 

Upon the floor where I was led 
There were a hundred pallets spread ; — 
Too rude and scant they seem'd, to rest 
The weary forms upon them prest, 
When pain was of each pulse a part, 
And moment's rest was life's sole art! 
For soldier on the battle field 
The earth has couch enough to yield, 
And hero-soldier asks no more 
When bivouac or march is o'er; — 
But here, where battle's loss or gain 
Gathers dread vintage from the plain; 
. Or where Disease, with weary face, 
Craves this first boon — a resting place — 
The Hospital might surely claim 
More fitting couch, in Mercy's name! 



CONSECRATION. 87 

But this was all — these, scathed, bereft. 
Yet rich in heart — gave all was left! — 
There were a hundred pallets spread, 
And there the sick, the dying, dead. 
In mournful presence mingled lay 
For lack of mercy's better way ! 

V 

Beside such couch a watcher stood 

In simplest garb of widow-hood, 

Or moved from place to place, and gave 

Such ministration to the brave 

Who languish'd there, as made some deem 

It was not all an empty dream 

That vision'd to the fever'd brain 

The jDleasing sight of "home again;" — 

Or, bade another sufferer hear 

An Angel whisper in his ear 

Sweet message from the clime of peace 

Where war comes not, and death shall cease! 

— And, could it be ? These years' had wrought 

So much bewilderment of thought, 

'Mid shifting scene and battle storm 

And thronging hosts of marshal form. 

And blanched wanderers on the path 

Of exile, fleeing from the wrath 

Of guilty war and guiltier lust ;— 

I could but deem, yet dare not trust, 

The memories that rush'd to trace 

That lovely watcher's name and place. 

I could but pause in doubt— and yet 



38 CONSECRATION. 

Was that a foce one could forget? 
Ah ! if I could have mark'd the while 
The wreathings of a vanished smile; 
Or heard a voice of magic tone 
Which, like a thought of pleasure flown, 
Altho' we know the bliss be o'er, 
And in such guise can come no more, 
CHngs to the heart and haunts it still 
In hidden motion of the will! 
— I heard that gentle voice at last 
And in that moment doubt was past. 

VI 

Mysterious memory ! with wizard power 

And charm to bless or curse the passing hour! 

Now, Sun, rejoicing in its genial strength 

Now, Bale-fire, blazing thro' a horrid length! 

— A piercing eye that glares upon the sleep 

Of all things hidden in the heart's great deep ! 

A long breath'd diver, bringing Pearly spoil, 

Or Vulcan ashes from its deep-sea soil! 

An instant now, — and ere the tongue can tell 

The instant fiishion of the wondrous spell, 

It paints in scenes, with hues supernal bright. 

And flashes all the soul-life on our sight, — 

Heart Panorama, motionless, complete, 

With life's whole deed and secret thought replete! 

But, now, if called to count a score of links 

In being's chain, from wonted duty shrinks; 

With blinded eye, and tremulous of hand 

Still vainly gropes to touch th' electric strand. — 



CONSECRATION. 

A giant artist palsied in his prime, 
By evil magic of the spells of time ! — 
A look may bind, a casual tone set free 
For matchless work his image energy! 

VII 

The recognition's joyful clasp 
Was given with fervent, silent grasp; — 
This was no place for words, nor need, 
Where misery bade us, "love in deed." 
Here was vocation now, and she 
Was angel unto Charity, — 
Upon such mission all intent. 
Willing to "spend and to be spent;" 
Nor could I brook a thought to stay 
Her willing feet on Mercy's way, 
Or cast a shadow on the light 
Her presence gave to many a night, — 
Night of the heart — of love and hope — 
With this one star within its scope! 
But, mercy's ministration past. 
When came the hour of rest at last, 
I heard, in words low toned, and few 
As speech may use to make it true, 
The story of the life-sad change 
An hour had wrought within its range! 

VIII 

' Twere little worth to tell, she said. 
Since last we met, how time has fled. 
You know our Home — its beauties grew 
And ripened as the moments flew : 



40 CONSECRATION. 

Till suddenly a night of cold 

Enclasp 'd them in its wintry fold. 

— And so 'twere useless to relate 

The wrongs that roused our gallant State, 

And bade her grasp the sword for fight, 

Eather than own dishonour's might. 

IX 

My noble Husband felt regret 

Such deadly wager must be set; 

But when 'twas given, he deem'd it right, 

To join his brethren in the fight; 

And felt a patriot father's pride 

To see our brave boy by his side. 

They left me, — and a strange delay 

Hinder'd the motion of each day; 
And, watching mid my hopes and fears, 
The months seem'd lengthen'd into years. 
Their message came — but still it seem'd 
Like tidings told to one who dream'd. 
Then suddenly the spell was broke, 
My day dream pass'd and I awoke, 
And found myself upon the verge 
Of war's engulfing, treacherous surge. 

X 

I heard — it was the saddest sound 

That ever made my pulse to bound — 

I heard the heavy booming gun. 

And knew the death strife was begun, 

And wept and pray'd till set of sun ; — 

And then they came — Ah me! the thought 



CONSECRATION. 41 

With bitterness of death is fraught ! 

Well,— then they brought my loved ones home, 

But not to me : — they had not come 

To clasp me in .love's warm embrace, 

To wipe the tear stains from my face, 

To tell me tidings of the day, 

And smile my idle fears away. — 

XI 

— Her face the hue of anguish took, 
Her frame a sob convulsive shook, — 
A thunder of the heart, that breaks 
The gathered cloud of grief and shakes 
The tear-drop from the heavy eyes, 
As lightning smites the storm-clad skies! 
She wept, and so the heart's dry plain 
Was freshened by the tearful rain. 
— The sorrow-storm swept by, and then, 
With outward calm, she spoke again. 

XII 

I gazed upon them as they lay, — 

My jewels both — father and son! 

It seemed my heart was still as they. 

Had ceased to beat and turned to clay 

"Oh God, Thy holy will be done. 

But this is hard," — I did not say, 

I had no thought, no heart to pray. 

Nor Hps to murmur, — they were sealed 

In presence of such ftite revealed. 

— So strange it seemed! — They were so near 

And yet so still ! — They were so dear. 



42 CONSECRATION. 

And in the measure given back 

Of true heart's love, there was no lack 

In word or deed! This silence — change. 

This stillness was unearthly strange ! 

They seemed to have fall'n into a sleep 

Awe-full, because it was so deep. 

Sometimes, the vision of my thought 

With fear and love was so much wrought, 

I fancied still the swell of breath 

Was heaving on those breasts of death. 

But this was fancy of the night 

That vanished at the touch of light. 

Then came strange joyance to my heart ; 

I knew my dead and I must part, — 

But this was mine — 'twould be relief, 

'Twould be some solace to my grief 

To shroud, and see the earth-sod close 

In honour on their last repose ! — 

— They to the grave — the living, we, 

A widow'd wife and children three, 

Must 'bide — alas! I did not know 

In how much bitterness of woe ! — 

I thought 'twould be my daily lot 

In mournful joy to tend the spot. 

The precious earth where should be laid 

My dead beneath the Home-trees' shade .- 

— Ah, thus how often Hope divines 

Even as the loving heart inclines. 

Nor asks, indeed, for better proof 

To hold its dream a thing of truth! 



CONSECRATION. 43 

So now it was — so came to me 
That morn of earth's bleak destiny. 

XIII 

The sun had scarcely risen before 

The conquering foe was»at our door — 

The place was needed, — so they said, — 

And when I whisper'd of my dead 

They smiled and answer'd, they would see 

The burial tended decently. 

But I and mine must hence depart, 

And soonest gone was safest part ; — 

An hour or so, and there could be 

Amid the rush of soldiery, 

Nor safety pledge nor guarantee ; — 

For men made fierce in battle heat, 

Were reckless, following a retreat; 

And scenes might rise and deeds be done 

I should be loath to look upon! 

This was enough — I had been weak 

But now my soul was brave and meek; — 

Made meek by cruel kindness shown 

That warning gave of ills unknown, 

And stronger grown because, to save 

My nestling doves, I must be brave ! 

XIV 

So much to ponder — much to lose 

Nor time nor power was mine to choose — 

I must away ! One passion'd prayer 

That shook my soul, I lifted there. 

Then sought my dead, — I smooth'd the hair 



44 CONSECRATION. 

From each pale brow and kiss'd them there, 
And bent above in wild embrace, 
Then wander'd forth — without a place! 

XV 

This must suffice — I cannot tell 
The anguish of that sad farewell, — 
The sorrow without hope's relief 
That pressed within a moment brief 
The feeling of so large a grief. 
— My Home was burn'd, and not a tree 
Nor guiding shrub for memory 
Was left; — it was a desert place 
With ashes scatter'd o'er its face ! 
And we — but what will this avail ? 
What good to echo penury's wail; 
To count the nights of misery o'er 
And tell what shade of woe each bore; — 
To tell of suffering, when the Hand 
That led me from the bondage land, 
O'er sorrow's sea, by Marah's fount, 
Thro' desert waste, 'neath Sinai Mount, 
In fire by night and cloud by day, 
Still fed with Manna all the way! 

XVI 

I may not question — dare not pine 
Against His wondrous ways divine. 
I know the issue will be good, 
And would not venture, if I could, 
To gaze the secrets where He lays 
The deep foundations of His praise! 



CONSECRATION. 45 

It has been well! 'Tis Heavenly sweet 
To lie submissive at His feet 
And count all earthly gain as loss 
To share the glory of the Cross! 
It shall be well! The Promise power 
Is potent in my heart this hour; 
There is no doubt! The Earnest given 
Is pledge inviolate of Heaven ! 

XVII 

How deep the charm, how spiritual the grace 

That Raphael gave to his Madonna's face, 

Where thoughtful smile is fountain'd from above 

And awe is mingled with a Mother's love! 

I had not deemed that mortal face could wear 

A look of beauty so divinely fiiir. 

It was to me a last Ideal, wrought 

In utmost range of merely human thought; 

A sole creation, beyond all compare, 

A Master's touch, inimitably rare ! 

Not soul of Phidian Greek, returned to tell 

Th' immortal virtues of the Asphodel, 

New taught by science of the Spirit Land, 

With spirit grace to wield the facile hand. 

Could add a charm, in line of beauty traced 

In touch of light, or tint of shade effaced! — 

But what such Greek could not, the Christ had 

wrought 
In human face baptized with Heaven's Love-thought! 
0, sacred Master ! Thine is Beauty's soul. 
And all her art raptures at thy control ! 



46 CONSECRATION. 

The wild Alp-daisy on its snowy height 
Obeys Thy summer call and springs to light; 
And pearly Lilies in the valley green, 
Violet and Rose to charm the living scene ;— 
Forests that sing thro' million music leaves, 
Harvests that wave with thousand golden sheaves; 
The rills that murmur, and the streams that flow 
With richer soundings thro' the plains below; 
The clouds that make their music to the wind 
In course and form of ever varying kind ; 
The rainbow arched, the ever speaking sea 
Blend all their praise when they would tell of Thee! 
But more is Thine, O, Life-creating King, 
Beyond all beams thy starry suns can fling 
To anoint the soul of man, and make it clear 
To vision-truths within the Heavenly sphere. 
And read their meaning in the glory light 
That shades Thy throne insufferably bright; — 
Thine to repeat Transfiguration hour 
And on Thy Martyr's brow display its power! 



Consecrated twice. 
Oh, Consecrated thrice ! 
In God's threefold furnace tried 
Earth's refinement purified 
Till the fineness of the gold 
Equals that we shall behold 
In the New Jerusalem! 



CONSECRATION. 47 

Consecrated twice, 

Oh, consecrated thrice! 
Heavenly touched with love divine ;— 
Heavenly taught on earth's love shrine;— 
Earthly purged in blood of thine, 
All the soul is wondrous fair 
As the ^'Sea of Crystal," where 
All the beauty forms that rest 
Tmaged on its stormless breast 
Are the forms of Heavenly things 
Which the "sun-bright" splendour flings 
From Christ's diadem! 

Consecrated twice, 
Oh, consecrated thrico ! 

Maidett, Mother, Widow ,— now 

A new name is oh thy brow; 

Written on its pearly white, 

As no mortal hand can write; 
Nameless name of glory, here. 
Viewless in Earth's atmosphere;— 
Tho' the pure light in thine eyes, 
Summered from beyond the skies, 
When the dome's receding blue 
Brings all starry depths to view, 
(—All that highest earth can see—) 
Says, the beauteous mystery 
Soon will be resolved, and soon 
Thine will be the Christly boon 
The ransom Tessera Gem ! 10 



48 CONSECRATION. 

XIX 

It was most beautiful! that mortal face 

Shaped to all lines of earth-attractive grace, 

Then toned to rapture kindled from above 

A.nd all harmonious in the light of love! 

And who Avill blame, if scene like this were strong 

To hold in spell the singer and the song, 

List'ning once more the solemn tones that keep 

Perpetual moan within the soul's great deep, 

To mark what argnment they make and show 

To what grand bourne its mighty currents flow. 

Was that a dream ? And is such radiance caught 

From nothing present to the outward thought? 

— A soul-born mirage, without earthly base. 

True to that soul alone — its native place ? — 

Not eaith reflection and not radiate light 

From Heavenly presence wafted to the sight? 

If this be so; — if I can thus create 

A joy to charm my merely mortal state ; 

If this transcendent power is mine 

To vision splendors which the sun outshine ; — 

Then let me dream amid life's actual care 

— For somehow sorrow's real pains are there — 

Oh, let me dream, and all my being thrill, 

So dreaming, with the sweet illusion still ! 

The Grave is nigh, — and if I live again, 

Creating once, I shall create amain 

In that new sphere, either in wider field, 

"With clearer sight and vaster power to wield ; 

Or if in narrower circle be my seat. 



CONSECRATION. 49 

At least enough to make its joy complete: — 

And if I live not — what were harm to say 

Such soul was happy in its mortal stay, 

And, strange, was happier when it passed away; — 

Itself a dream — or, God that ceased to he, 

Rapt at the thought of lifes gravid destiny! 



THE END. 




NOTES. 



1. Page 7. "Like youthful Milton's &c." The portrait referred 
to represents Milton in his 12th year. Mr. S. T. Sharp, of Bards- 
town, Ky., has a beautiful steel engraved copy, taken from the 
original, then (1855) in possession of the Provost of Eton College, 
by Henry Cousins, Esq. 

2. Page 9. "Pharos' &c." The celebrated Light-house near 
Alexandria, in Egypt, 

o. Page 11. "Chillon's bride &c." See latter part of Byron's ex- 
quisite "Prisoner of Chillon." 

4. Page 13. "Rose of Sharon &e." See Canticles, or "The 
Songs of Solomon," Chapter 2 verse 1, where this title is given 
to or appropriated by Christ. 

5. Page 15. "Frail Samaria's &c." See Gospel by John, 
Chapter 4 verse 5 and onward. 

6. Page — . "Proteus God." According to the Grecian Myth, 
"the prophetic old man of the Sea," Avas always changing form 
in order to avoid prophecying; but spoke truth when made to 
prophecy in his native shape. 

7. Page — . "Palimpsest." An intelligent friend once asked 
the meaning of this word. A palimpsest is a parchment from 
which a writing has been erased to make room for another 
record. The deeply interesting fact referred to in the text is 
that, by chemical treatment the subsequent record may be effaced 
and the original made to appear. 

8. Page — . "Thrills to hear &c." A most interesting fact 
illustrating this passage was offered in the person of an honored 
friend, the late Hon. Chas. Wickliffe. a few months before 
his fatal attack he was spending a social evening with a few 
friends. For most of the time he seemed to be abstracted and 
sad, but said nothing of his feelings. Some very fine music had 
fu.Ued to arouse to more than a quiet compliment, when his 
opinion was asked. Late in the evening some friends began to 
sing "Oft in the Stilly Night," Avhen at once and with lively 
interest he turned towards the singers and with tremulous tones, 



NOTES. 51 

while the tears' were falling, distinctly .sang the sone- tr. u. .1 
It seemed to be a rehabitation of the realms of x^Lh h 
one of the most touching scenes I everbeheld ''"' 

«J. Page -. "Nor weary limbs, &c." In one view TimP 

anf th^ro^tVoVtryln^^ ll^Zl'^t^ ^LT. t^ 

10. Page -. "Tessera Gem." See Rev. Chapter 2 verse 17 
The "white stone" with the "new name" is the Heavenly Tessem 
here supposed. The "Tessera Hospitalis" was much uLd amoTg^t 
the early Christians; and was often handed down thro' Tever^ 
generations and always sacredly respected. To show Tt was to 
secure all that friendship could command 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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